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LECTURES ON GEOMETRY
Series Editor
N. M. J. WOODHOUSE
Lectures on Geometry
Edited by
n. m. j. woodhouse
President, Clay Mathematics Institute
3
3
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Preface
T his volume contains a collection of papers based on lectures delivered by distin-

guished mathematicians at Clay Mathematics Institute events over the past few
years. It is intended to be the first in an occasional series of volumes of CMI lectures.
Although not explicitly linked, the topics in this inaugural volume have a common fla-
vour and a common appeal to all who are interested in recent developments in geometry.
They are intended to be accessible to all who work in this general area, regardless of their
own particular research interests.
Two Lectures on the Jones Polynomial and Khovanov Homology
Edward Witten
Edward Witten works at the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton. He is one of the
leading figures in contemporary theoretical physics. His chapter is based on two lectures
he gave at the Clay Research Conference in 2013. It surveys the groundbreaking work
of Witten and his collaborators in fitting Khovanov homology into a quantum field the-
ory framework. In the abstract of his contribution, Witten says: ‘I describe a gauge theory
approach to understanding quantum knot invariants as Laurent polynomials in a complex
variable q. The two main steps are to reinterpret three-dimensional Chern–Simons gauge
theory in four-dimensional terms and then to apply electric–magnetic duality. The vari-
able q is associated to instanton number in the dual description in four dimensions.’ This
hardly does justice to the extraordinary range of ideas and techniques from mathematics
and theoretical physics on which his lectures drew in his journey from an element-
ary starting point in the classical theory of knots. The second lecture was delivered in
the Number Theory and Physics workshop at the conference. It takes the story fur-
ther, describing how Khovanov homology can emerge upon adding a fifth dimension.
Along the way, Witten describes many significant new ideas, such as the Kapustin–Witten
equations (important in geometric Langlands) and a new approach to evaluating some
Feynman integrals via complexification. Witten’s approach is very natural, and especially
attractive to a geometer, using Picard–Lefschetz theory in an essential way.
vi | Preface
Elementary Knot Theory
Marc Lackenby
Marc Lackenby is a Professor of Mathematics at Oxford, with special interests in geo-
metry and topology in three dimensions. His chapter is partly based on a lecture at the
Clay Research Conference in 2012. It focuses on identifying some fundamental prob-
lems in knot theory that are easy to state but that remain unsolved. A survey of this
very active field is given to place these problems into context. Because the tools that are
used in knot theory are so diverse, the chapter highlights connections with many other
fields of mathematics, including hyperbolic geometry, the theory of computational com-
plexity, geometric group theory (a large area that connects with Bridson’s chapter) and
Khovanov homology (the subject of Witten’s chapter).
Cube Complexes, Subgroups of Mapping Class Groups

and Nilpotent Genus
Martin R. Bridson
Martin Bridson is the Whitehead Professor of Mathematics at Oxford, well known for
his work in geometric group theory. His contribution is based on the lecture he gave
as a Clay Senior Scholar at the Park City Mathematics Institute in 2012. This event is
organized each summer by the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton and is suppor-
ted by the Clay Mathematics Institute through the appointment of Clay Senior Scholars.
The PCMI Scholars provide mathematical leadership for the summer programmes and
deliver lectures addressed to a wide mathematical audience. Bridson’s chapter focuses
on two recent sets of results of his, one on mapping class groups of surfaces and the
other on nilpotent genera of groups, both of which illuminate extreme behaviour among
finitely presented groups. It provides an extremely useful and readable introduction to an
important and lively area.
Polyfolds and Fredholm Theory
Helmut Hofer
Helmut Hofer is a member of the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton. He has
played a major part in the development of symplectic topology. The original version
of this important and previously unpublished chapter was written following the Clay
Research Conference in 2008, at which Hofer spoke. Since then it has been extended and
revised to bring it up to date. The chapter discusses generalized Fredholm theory in poly-
folds, an area in which Hofer is a leading figure, with a focus on a particular topic—stable
maps—that has a close connection to Gromov–Witten theory. This selection allows
Hofer to set his chapter within a broad context. His excellent and full introduction makes
accessible the very detailed exposition that follows.
Preface | vii
Maps, Sheaves and K3 Surfaces
Rahul Pandharipande
Rahul Pandharipande works at ETH Zürich. He is well known for his work with
Okounkov, Nekrasov and Maulik on Gromov–Witten theory and Donaldson–
Thomas invariants, for which he received a Clay Research Award from CMI in 2013.
Pandharipande’s chapter also arises from a lecture delivered at the Clay Research
Conference in 2008, in which he reviewed his work and that of his collaborators on
recent progress in understanding curve counting (Gromov–Witten theory and its
cousins) in higher dimensions. Gromov–Witten theory is notoriously hard and is only
fully understood in dimensions 0 and 1. Pandharipande describes progress in dimensions
2 and 3. The chapter concisely describes a wide variety of important geometric ideas and
useful techniques. It ends by bringing the story up to date with a brief account of the
successful proofs of some of the principal conjectures covered in the original lecture.
N. M. J. Woodhouse
Clay Mathematics Institute
Contents
List of Contributors xi
1 Two Lectures on the Jones Polynomial and Khovanov
Homology 1
Edward Witten
2 Elementary Knot Theory 29
Marc Lackenby
3 Cube Complexes, Subgroups of Mapping Class Groups
and Nilpotent Genus 65
Martin R. Bridson
4 Polyfolds and Fredholm Theory 87
Helmut H. W. Hofer
5 Maps, Sheaves and K3 Surfaces 159
Rahul Pandharipande
Index 187
List of Contributors
Martin R. Bridson Rahul Pandharipande

Mathematical Institute Department of Mathematics
University of Oxford ETH Zürich
Andrew Wiles Building Rämistrasse 101
Radcliffe Observatory Quarter 8092 Zürich
Woodstock Road Switzerland
Oxford OX2 6GG, UK
Helmut H. W. Hofer Edward Witten

School of Mathematics School of Natural Sciences
Institute for Advanced Study Institute for Advanced Study
Einstein Drive Einstein Drive
Princeton, NJ 08540, USA Princeton, NJ 08540, USA
Marc Lackenby N. M. J. Woodhouse

Mathematical Institute CMI President’s Office
University of Oxford Andrew Wiles Building
Andrew Wiles Building Radcliffe Observatory Quarter
Radcliffe Observatory Quarter Woodstock Road
Woodstock Road Oxford OX2 6GG, UK
Oxford OX2 6GG, UK
1 Two Lectures on the Jones
Polynomial and Khovanov
Homology
edward witten
1.1 Lecture One
T he Jones polynomial is a celebrated invariant of a knot (or link) in ordinary three-

dimensional space, originally discovered by V. F. R. Jones roughly thirty years ago as
an offshoot of his work on von Neumann algebras [1]. Many descriptions and generaliz-
ations of the Jones polynomial were discovered in the years immediately after Jones’s
work. They more or less all involved statistical mechanics or two-dimensional math-
ematical physics in one way or another—for example, Jones’s original work involved
Temperley–Lieb algebras of statistical mechanics. I do not want to assume that the Jones
polynomial is familiar to everyone, so I will explain one of the original definitions.
For brevity, I will describe the “vertex model” (see [2] and also [3], p. 125). One
projects a knot to R2 in such a way that the only singularities are simple crossings and
so that the height function has only simple local maxima and minima (Fig. 1.1). One
labels the intervals between crossings, maxima and minima by a symbol + or –. One sums
over all possible labelings of the knot projection with simple weight functions given in
Figs. 1.2 and 1.3. The weights are functions of a variable q. After summing over all pos-
sible labelings and weighting each labeling by the product of the weights attached to its
crossings, maxima and minima, one arrives at a function of q. The sum turns out to be
an invariant of a framed knot.1 This invariant is a Laurent polynomial in q (times a fixed
fractional power of q that depends on the framing). It is known as the Jones polynomial.
Clearly, given the rules stated in the figures, the Jones polynomial for a given knot is
completely computable by a finite (but exponentially long) algorithm. The rules, how-
ever, seem to have come out of thin air. Topological invariance is not obvious and is
proved by checking Reidemeister moves.
Lectures on Geometry. Edward Witten, Marc Lackenby, Martin R. Bridson, Helmut Hofer and Rahul Pandharipande.
© Oxford University Press 2017. Published 2017 by Oxford University Press.
2 | Lectures on Geometry
Figure 1.1 A knot in R3 —in this case a trefoil knot—projected to the plane R2 in a way
that gives an immersion with only simple crossings and such that the height function
(the vertical coordinate in the figure) has only simple local maxima and minima. In this
example, there are three crossings (each of which contributes two crossing points, one
on each branch) and two local minima and maxima, making a total of 3 · 2 + 2 + 2 = 10
exceptional points. Omitting those points divides the knot into 10 pieces that can be
labeled by symbols + or –, so the vertex model for this projection expresses the Jones
polynomial of the trefoil knot as a sum of 210 terms.
+ + – – + + – –
q1/4 q1/4 q–1/4 q–1/4
+ + – – + + – –
– + + – – + + –
–1/4 –1/4 1/4
q q q q1/4
+ – – + + – – +
+ – – + + – – +
1/4 –3/4 0 0
(q –q ) (q–1/4 – q–3/4)
+ – – + + – – +
Figure 1.2 The weights of the vertex model for a simple crossing of two strands. (The
weights for configurations not shown are 0.)
Other descriptions of the Jones polynomial were found during the same period, often
involving mathematical physics. The methods involved statistical mechanics, braid group
representations, quantum groups, two-dimensional conformal field theory and more.
One notable fact was that conformal field theory can be used [4] to generalize the con-
structions of Jones to the choice of an arbitrary simple Lie group2 G∨ with a labeling
of a knot (or of each component of a link) by an irreducible representation R∨ of G∨ .
Two Lectures on the Jones Polynomial and Khovanov Homology | 3
+ – iq–1/4 + – iq–1/4
– + –iq1/4 – + –iq1/4
Figure 1.3 The weights of the vertex model for a local maximum or minimum of the
height function. (Weights not shown are 0.)
The original Jones polynomial is the case that G∨ = SU(2) and R∨ is the two-
dimensional representation.
With these and other clues, it turned out [5] that the Jones polynomial can be
described in three-dimensional quantum gauge theory. Here we start with a compact
simple gauge group G∨ (to avoid minor details, we take G∨ to be connected and simply
connected) and a trivial3 G∨ -bundle E∨ → W, where W is an oriented three-manifold.
Let A be a connection on E∨ . The only gauge-invariant function of A that we can write
by integration over W of some local expression, assuming no structure on W except an
orientation, is the Chern–Simons function

1 2
CS(A) = Tr A ∧ dA + A ∧ A ∧ A . (1.1)
4π W 3
Even this function is only gauge-invariant modulo a certain fundamental period. In (1.1),
Tr is an invariant and non-degenerate quadratic form on the Lie algebra of G∨ , normal-
ized so that CS(A) is gauge-invariant mod 2πZ. For G∨ = SU(n) (for some n ≥ 2), we
can take Tr to be the trace in the n-dimensional representation.
The Feynman path integral is now formally an integral over the infinite-dimensional
space U of connections:

1
Zk (W) = DA exp[ikCS(A)]. (1.2)
vol U
This is a basic construction in quantum field theory, though unfortunately challenging to

understand from a mathematical point of view. Here k has to be an integer since CS(A)
is only gauge-invariant modulo 2π Z. Zk (W) is defined with no structure on W except
an orientation, so it is an invariant of the oriented three-manifold W. (Here and later, I
ignore some details. W actually has to be “framed,” as one learns if one follows the logic
of “renormalization theory.” Also, formally, vol is the volume of the infinite-dimensional
group of gauge transformations.)
To include a knot—that is, an embedded oriented circle K ⊂ W—we make use of

the holonomy of the connection A around W, which we denote by Hol(A, K). We pick an
irreducible representation R∨ of G∨ and define

W (K) = Tr
R∨ R∨ HolK (A) = Tr P exp – A ,
R∨ (1.3)
K
where the last expression is the way that physicists often denote the trace of the
holonomy. In the context of quantum field theory, the trace of the holonomy is usually
called the Wilson loop operator. Then we define a natural invariant of the pair W, K:

1
Zk (W; K, R∨ ) = DA exp[ikCS(A)] WR∨ (K). (1.4)
vol U
(Again, framings are needed.)

If we take G∨ to be SU(2) and R∨ to be the two-dimensional representation, then
Zk (W; K, R∨ ) turns out to be the Jones polynomial, evaluated at4

2π i
q = exp . (1.5)
k+2
This statement is justified by making contact with two-dimensional conformal field the-
ory, via the results of [4]. For a particularly direct way to establish the relation to the
Knizhnik–Zamolodchikov equations of conformal field theory, see [6]. This relationship
between three-dimensional gauge theory and two-dimensional conformal field theory
has also been important in condensed matter physics, in studies of the quantum Hall
effect and related phenomena.
This approach has more or less the opposite virtues and drawbacks to those of the
standard approaches to the Jones polynomial. No projection to a plane is chosen, so topo-
logical invariance is obvious (modulo standard quantum field theory machinery), but it
is not clear how much one will be able to compute. In other approaches, like the vertex
model, there is an explicit finite algorithm for computation, but topological invariance is
obscure.
Despite the manifest topological invariance of this approach to the Jones polynomial,
there were at least two things that many knot theorists did not like about it. One was
simply that the framework of integration over function spaces—though quite familiar
to physicists—is difficult to understand mathematically. (A version of this problem is
one of the Clay Millennium Problems.) The second is that this method did not give
a clear approach to understanding why the usual quantum knot invariants are Laurent
polynomials in q. This method, in its original form, gave a definition of the knot invari-
ants only for integer k, and did not explain the existence of an analytic continuation to a
function of a complex variable q, let alone the fact that the analytically continued func-
tions are Laurent polynomials. From some points of view, the fact that the invariants are
Laurent polynomials is considered sufficiently important that it is part of the name “Jones
polynomial.” Other approaches to the Jones polynomial—such as the vertex model that
we started with—do not obviously give a topological invariant but do obviously give a
Laurent polynomial.
Actually, for most three-manifolds, the answer that comes from the gauge theory is the
right one. It is special to knots in R3 that the natural variable is q = exp[2π i/(k + 2)]
rather than k. The quantum knot invariants on a general three-manifold W are naturally
defined only for an integer k and do not have natural analytic continuations to functions
of5 q. This has been the traditional understanding: the gauge theory gives directly a good
understanding on a general three-manifold W, but if one wants to understand from three-
dimensional gauge theory some of the special things that happen for knots in R3 , one has
to begin by relating the gauge theory to one of the other approaches, for instance via
conformal field theory.
However, a little over a decade ago, two developments gave clues that there should be
another explanation. One of these developments was Khovanov homology, which will
be the topic of the second lecture. The other development, which started at roughly
the same time, was the “volume conjecture” [7–12]. What I will explain in this lecture
started with an attempt to understand the volume conjecture. I should stress that I have
not succeeded in finding a quantum field theory explanation for the volume conjecture.6
However, just understanding a few preliminaries concerning the volume conjecture led
to a new point of view on the Jones polynomial. This is what I aim to explain. Since this
is the case, I will actually not give a precise statement of the volume conjecture.
To orient ourselves, let us just ask how the basic integral

1
Zk (W) = DA exp[ikCS(A)] (1.6)
vol U
behaves for large k. It is an infinite-dimensional analog of a finite-dimensional oscillatory
integral such as the one that defines the Airy function
∞
F(k; t) = dx exp[ik(x3 + tx)], (1.7)
–∞
where we assume that k and t are real. Taking k → ∞ with fixed t, the integral vanishes
exponentially fast if there are no real critical points (t > 0) and is a sum of oscillatory
contributions of real critical points if there are any (t < 0). The same logic applies to
the infinite-dimensional integral for Zk (W). The critical points of CS(A) are flat connec-
tions, corresponding to homomorphisms ρ : π1 (W) → G, so the asymptotic behavior
of Zk (W) for large k is given by a sum of oscillatory contributions associated to such
homomorphisms. (This has been shown explicitly in examples [14, 15].)
The volume conjecture arises if we specialize to knots in R3 , so that—as one knows
from any approach to the Jones polynomial other than that via Chern–Simons gauge
theory—k does not have to be an integer. Usually the case G∨ = SU(2) is assumed and
we let R∨ be the n-dimensional representation of SU(2). The corresponding knot invari-
ant is called the colored Jones polynomial. We take k → ∞ through non-integer values,
with fixed k/n. A choice that is sufficient to illustrate the main points is to set k = k0 + n,
where k0 is a fixed complex number and we take n → ∞ (through integer values). The
behavior of the colored Jones polynomial in this limit has been studied for a variety of
knots, using approaches to the knot invariants in which there is no restriction to integer
k, for example the approach via quantum groups. Very interesting results have emerged
from this work [7–12]. Trying to understand these results via path integrals was the
motivation for what I am describing in this lecture.
What emerged from study of the limit n → ∞ with k = k0 + n is very suggestive of
Chern–Simons gauge theory, but with a crucial twist. In examples that have been stud-
ied, the large-n behavior can be interpreted in terms of a sum of critical points of the
Chern–Simons path integral, but now these are complex critical points. By a complex
critical point, I mean simply a critical point of the analytic continuation of the function
CS(A).
We make this analytic continuation simply by replacing the Lie group G∨ with its com-
plexification G∨C , replacing the G∨ -bundle E∨ → W with its complexification, which is a
G∨C bundle E∨C → W, and replacing the connection A on E∨ by a connection A on E∨C ,
which we can think of as a complex-valued connection. Once we do this, the function
CS(A) on the space U of connections on E∨ can be analytically continued to a holo-
morphic function CS(A) on U, the space of connections on E∨C . This function is defined
by the “same formula” with A replaced by A:

1 2
CS(A) = Tr A ∧ dA + A ∧ A ∧ A . (1.8)
4π W 3
On a general three-manifold W, a critical point of CS(A) is simply a complex-valued flat

connection, corresponding to a homomorphism ρ : π1 (W) → G∨C .
In the case of the volume conjecture with W = R3 , the fundamental group is trivial,
but we are supposed to also include a holonomy or Wilson loop operator WR∨ (K) =
TrR∨ HolK (A), where R∨ is the n-dimensional representation of SU(2). When we take
k → ∞ with fixed k/n, this holonomy factor affects what we should mean by a critical
point.7 A full explanation would take us too far afield, and instead I will just give the
answer: the right notion of a complex critical point for the colored Jones polynomial is a
homomorphism ρ : π1 (W\K) → G∨C , with a monodromy around K whose conjugacy
class is determined by the ratio n/k. What is found in work on the “volume conjecture” is
that (in examples that have been studied) the colored Jones polynomial for k → ∞ with
fixed n/k is determined by such a complex critical point.
Physicists know about various situations (involving “tunneling” problems) in which a
path integral is dominated by a complex critical point, but usually this is a complex critical
point that makes an exponentially small contribution. There is a simple reason for this.
Usually in quantum mechanics, one is computing a probability amplitude. Since probab-
ilities cannot be bigger than 1, the contribution of a complex critical point to a probability
amplitude can be exponentially small but it cannot be exponentially large. What really
surprised me about the volume conjecture is that, for many knots (knots with hyperbolic
complement in particular), the dominant critical point makes an exponentially large con-
tribution. In other words, the colored Jones polynomial is a sum of oscillatory terms for
n → ∞, k = k0 + n if k0 is an integer, but it grows exponentially in this limit as soon as k0
is not an integer. (Concretely, this is because kCS(A) evaluated at the appropriate critical
point has a negative imaginary part, so exp[ikCS(A)] grows exponentially for large k.)
There is no contradiction with the statement that quantum mechanical probability
amplitudes cannot be exponentially large, because as soon as k0 is not an integer, we
are no longer studying a physically sensible quantum mechanical system. But it seemed
puzzling that making k0 non-integral, even if still real, can change the large-n beha-
vior so markedly. However, it turns out that a simple one-dimensional integral can do
the same thing:
2π
dθ ikθ 2in sin θ
I(k, n) = e e . (1.9)
0 2π
We want to think of k and n as analogs of the integer-valued parameters in Chern–Simons

gauge theory that we call by the same names. (In our model problem, k is naturally an
integer, but there is no good reason for n to be an integer. So the analogy is not per-
fect.) If one takes k, n to infinity with a fixed (real) ratio and maintaining the integrality
of k, then the integral I(k, n) has an oscillatory behavior, dominated by the critical points
of the exponent f = kθ + 2n sin θ , if k/n is such that there are critical points for real θ.
Otherwise, the integral vanishes exponentially fast for large k.
Now, to imitate the situation considered in the volume conjecture, we want to analyt-
ically continue away from integer values of k. The integral I(k, n) obeys Bessel’s equation
(as a function of n) for any integer k. We want to think of Bessel’s equation as the analog
of the “Ward identities” of quantum field theory, so in the analytic continuation of I(k, n)
away from integer k, we want to preserve Bessel’s equation. The proof of Bessel’s equa-
tion involves integration by parts, so it is important that we are integrating all the way
around the circle and that the integrand is continuous and single-valued on the circle.
That is why k has to be an integer.
The analytic continuation of I(k, n), preserving Bessel’s equation, was known in the
nineteenth century. We first set z = eiθ , so our integral becomes

dz k–1
I(k, n) = z exp[n(z – z–1 )]. (1.10)
2π i
Here the integral is over the unit circle in the z-plane. At this point, k is still an integer. We
want to get away from integer values while still satisfying Bessel’s equation. If Re n > 0,
this can be done by switching to the integration cycle shown in Fig. 1.4.
Figure 1.4 The contour used in analytic continuation of the solution of Bessel’s equation.
The integral on the new cycle converges (if Re n > 0), and it agrees with the original
integral on the circle if k is an integer, since the extra parts of the cycle cancel. But the new
cycle gives a continuation away from integer k, still obeying Bessel’s equation. There is
no difficulty in the integration by parts used to prove Bessel’s equation, since the integral
on the chosen cycle is rapidly convergent at infinity.
How does the integral on the new cycle behave in the limit k, n → ∞ with fixed k/n?
If k is an integer and n is real, then the integral is oscillatory or exponentially damped,
as I have stated before, depending on the ratio k/n. But as soon as k is not an integer
(even if k and n remain real), the large-k behavior with fixed k/n is one of exponential
growth, for a certain range of k/n, rather as is found for the colored Jones polynomial.
Unfortunately, even though it is elementary, a full explanation of this statement would
involve a bit of a digression. (Details can be found, for example, in [13], Section 3.5.)
Here I will just explain the technique that one can use to make this analysis, since this will
show the technique that we will follow in taking a new look at the Jones polynomial.
We are trying to do an integral of the generic form

dz
exp[kF(z)], (1.11)
2π iz
where F(z) is a holomorphic function and is a cycle, possibly not compact, on which
the integral converges. In our case,
F(z) = log z + λ(z – z–1 ), λ = n/k. (1.12)
We note that because of the logarithm, F(z) is multivalued. To do the analysis properly,
we should work on a cover of the punctured z-plane parametrized by w = log z on which
F is single-valued:
F(w) = w + λ(ew – e–w ). (1.13)
The next step is to find a useful description of all possible cycles on which the desired
integral, which now is

dw
exp[kF(w)], (1.14)
2π i
converges.
Morse theory gives an answer to this question. We consider the function h(w, w) =
Re[kF(w)] as a Morse function. Its critical points are simply the critical points of the
holomorphic function F, and so in our example they obey
1 + λ(ew + e–w ) = 0. (1.15)
The key step is now the following. To every critical point p of F, we can define an integ-
ration cycle p , called a Lefschetz thimble, on which the integral we are trying to do
converges. Moreover, the p give a basis of integration cycles on which this integral con-
verges, since they give a basis of the homology of the w-plane relative to the region with
h → –∞. (We assume that the critical points of F are all non-degenerate, as is the case
in our example. Also, we assume that F is sufficiently generic that the equation (1.16)
introduced momentarily has no solutions interpolating from one critical point at t = –∞
to another at t = +∞. If F varies as a function of some parameters, then in real codimen-
sion 1, such interpolating solutions do appear; there is then a Stokes phenomenon—a
jumping in the basis of the relative homology given by the p .)
In fact, since h is the real part of a holomorphic function, its critical points are all saddle
points, not local maxima or minima. The Lefschetz thimble associated to a given critical
point p is defined by “flowing down” from p (Fig. 1.5), via the gradient flow equation of
Morse theory. We could use any complete Kahler metric on the w-plane in defining this
equation, but we may as well use the obvious flat metric ds2 = |dw|2 . The gradient flow
equation is then
dw ∂h
=– , (1.16)
dt ∂w
where t is a new “time” coordinate. The Lefschetz thimble p associated to a critical point
p is defined as the space of all values at t = 0 of solutions of the flow equation on the semi-
infinite interval (–∞, 0] that start at p at t = –∞. For example, p itself is contained in p ,
because it is the value at t = 0 of the trivial solution of the flow equation that is equal to
p for all times. A non-constant solution that approaches p for t → –∞ is exponentially
close to p for large negative t. The coefficient of the exponentially small term in a partic-
ular solution determines how far the flow reaches by time t = 0 and therefore what point
on p is represented by this particular flow.
p is not compact, but the integral

dw
Ip = exp[kF(w)] (1.17)
p 2π i
Γp
Figure 1.5 The Lefschetz thimble associated to a critical point. The critical point is a
saddle point and the thimble is the union of downward flows that start at this saddle.
converges, since h = Re[kF(w)] goes to –∞ at infinity along p . Moreover, when restric-

ted to p , h has a unique maximum, which is at the point p. This statement leads to a
straightforward answer for the large- k behavior of the integral Ip :

Ip ∼ exp[kF(p)] c0 k–1/2 + c1 k–3/2 + . . . , (1.18)
where the coefficients c0 , c1 , . . . in the asymptotic expansion can be computed by

classical methods.
Any other cycle on which the integral converges can be expanded as a linear
combination of the Lefschetz thimbles:

= a p p , ap ∈ Z. (1.19)
p
After computing the integers ap , it is straightforward to determine the large-k asymptotics

of an integral

dw
exp[kF(w)]. (1.20)
2π i
It is simply given by the contributions of those critical points p for which h(p) is maximal
under the condition that ap = 0. Applying this procedure to our example related to the
Bessel function, we get the answer that I claimed before: this integral has an asymptotic
behavior similar to that of the colored Jones polynomial. The limit n → ∞, k = k0 + n is
quite different depending on whether k0 is an integer. (Concretely, if k0 is not an integer,
the large-n behavior is dominated by two Lefschetz thimbles whose contributions cancel
if k0 is an integer.)
At this stage, I hope it is fairly clear what we should do to understand the analytic
continuation to non-integer k of the quantum invariants of knots in R3 , and also to
understand the asymptotic behavior of the colored Jones polynomial that is related to
the volume conjecture. We should define Lefschetz thimbles in the space U of complex-
valued connections, or, more precisely, in a cover of this space on which CS(A) is
single-valued, and in the gauge theory definition of the Jones polynomial, we should
replace the integral over the space U of real connections with a sum of integrals over
Lefschetz thimbles.
However, it probably is not clear that this will actually lead to a useful new view-
point on the Jones polynomial. This depends on a few additional facts. To define the
Lefschetz thimbles that we want, we need to consider a gradient flow equation on the
infinite-dimensional space U of complex-valued connections, with Re[ikCS(A)] as a
Morse function.8 Actually, I want to first practice with the case of gradient flow on the
infinite-dimensional space U of real connections (on a G∨ -bundle E∨ → W, W being a
three-manifold) with the Morse function being the real Chern–Simons function CS(A).
This case is important in Floer theory of three-manifolds and in Donaldson theory of
smooth four-manifolds, so it is relatively familiar. A Riemannian metric on W induces a

Riemannian metric on U by

|δA|2 = – Tr δA ∧ δA, (1.21)
W
where = 3 is the Hodge star operator acting on differential forms on W. We will use
this metric in defining a gradient flow equation on U, with Morse function CS(A).
The flow equation will be a differential equation on a four-manifold M = W × R,
where R is parametrized by the “time”; one can think of the flow as evolving a three-
dimensional connection in “time.” Concretely, the flow equation is
∂A δCS(A)
=– =– 3 F, (1.22)
∂t δA
where F = dA + A ∧ A is the curvature. Now a couple of miracles happen. This equation

has a priori no reason to be elliptic or to have four-dimensional symmetry. But it turns out
that the equation is actually a gauge-fixed version of the instanton equation F+ = 0, which
is elliptic modulo the gauge group and has the full four-dimensional symmetry (i.e., it is
naturally defined on any oriented Riemannian four-manifold M, not necessarily of the
form W × R for some W). These miracles are well known to researchers on Donaldson
and Floer theory, where they play an important role.
It turns out that similar miracles happen in gradient flow on the space U of complex-
valued connections, endowed with the obvious flat Kahler metric

2
|δA| = – Tr δA ∧ δA. (1.23)
W
This equation is a gauge-fixed version (with also the moment map set to 0, in a sense
explained in [16]) of an elliptic differential equation that has full four-dimensional sym-
metry. This equation can be seen as a four-dimensional cousin of Hitchin’s celebrated
equation in two dimensions. It is an equation for a pair A, φ, where A is a real connection
on a G∨ -bundle E∨ → M, M being an oriented four-manifold, and φ is a one-form on M
with values in ad(E∨ ). The equations (for simplicity I take k real) are
F – φ ∧ φ = dA φ, dA φ = 0. (1.24)
They can be viewed as flow equations for the complex-valued connection A = A + iφ on

the three-manifold W.
There is a happy coincidence: these equations, which sometimes have been called
the KW equations, arise in a certain twisted version of maximally supersymmetric
Yang–Mills theory (N = 4 super Yang–Mills theory) in four dimensions [17]. We will
see shortly why this relationship is relevant. For recent mathematical work on these
equations, see [18, 19] and also [20].
Now we can define a Lefschetz thimble for any choice of a complex flat connection Aρ
on M, associated to a homomorphism ρ : π1 (M) → G∨C . We work on the four-manifold
M = W × R+ , where R+ is the half-line t ≥ 0, and define the thimble ρ to consist of all
complex connections A = A + iφ that are boundary values (at the finite boundary of M
at W × {t = 0}) of solutions of the KW equations on M that approach Aρ at infinity.
For a general M, there are various choices of ρ and some rather interesting issues that
have not yet been unraveled. But now we can see what is special about knots in R3 . Since
the fundamental group of R3 is trivial,9 any complex flat connection on R3 is equivalent
to the trivial one, A = 0. Hence there is only one Lefschetz thimble 0 , and any integra-
tion cycle is a multiple of this one. So, instead of integration over U to define the Jones
polynomial, we can define the quantum knot invariants by integration over 0 :

1
Zk (R3 ; K, R∨ ) = DA exp[ikCS(A)] · WR∨ (K). (1.25)
vol 0
Here the holonomy function WR∨ (K) is viewed as a function on the Lefschetz thimble;
in other words, it is evaluated for the connection A = A + iφ restricted to W × {0} (so,
in Fig. 1.6, the knot K is placed on the boundary of W × R+ ; as in footnote 9, K does not
enter the definition of the Lefschetz thimble). This definition explains why the quantum
invariants of knots in R3 can be analytically continued away from roots of unity. Indeed,
the function CS(A) is well defined and single-valued on the Lefschetz thimble 0 , so
there is no reason to restrict to the case that k is an integer.
The formula (1.25) for the Jones polynomial and its cousins may appear to be purely
formal, but there is a reason that we can say something about it. As I have already
observed, the KW equations arise in N = 4 super Yang–Mills theory in four dimensions.
This theory has a “twisted” version that localizes on the space of solutions of the KW
equations. The space of all such solutions on M = R3 × R+ , with the requirement that
A → 0 at ∞, is simply our Lefschetz thimble 0 . The upshot is that the quantum invari-
ants of a knot in R3 can be computed from a path integral of N = 4 super Yang–Mills
theory in four dimensions, with a slightly subtle boundary condition [22] along the
boundary at R3 × {0}.
This is not yet obviously useful, but one more step brings us into a more accessible
world, and also gives a new explanation of why the quantum knot invariants are Laurent
polynomials in the variable q. The step in question was also a key step in [17] and
more generally in most of the work of physicists on the supersymmetric gauge theory in
Figure 1.6 A four-manifold M = W × R+ , with a knot K embedded in its boundary

W × {0}.
question. This is electric–magnetic duality, the four-dimensional analog of mirror sym-

metry in two dimensions. N = 4 supersymmetric Yang–Mills theory with gauge group
G∨ and “coupling parameter” τ is equivalent to the same theory with G∨ replaced by
its Langlands or GNO dual group, which we simply call G, and the coupling parameter
τ ∨ replaced by τ = –1/ng τ ∨ (here ng is the ratio of the lengths squared of the long and
short roots of G or equivalently of G∨ ).
To find a dual description in our problem, we need to ask what happens under the
duality to the boundary condition at R3 × {0}. (The analog of this question in mirror
symmetry may be more familiar: what Lagrangian submanifold is mirror to a given coher-
ent sheaf?) For the boundary condition that is related to the Lefschetz thimble, the dual
boundary condition was described some years ago in [22]. It is somewhat unusual and
will be described in Lecture Two. For now, I will just say that this boundary condition has
the formal properties of a standard local elliptic boundary condition and has the effect of
reducing to finite-dimensional spaces of solutions of the KW equations.
In the situation of Fig. 1.6, after making the duality transformation, the moduli space
of solutions has expected dimension 0, and to evaluate Zk (R3 ; K, R∨ ), we just have to
“count” (with signs, as in Donaldson theory) the number bn of solutions for a given value
n of the instanton number (for G = SU(n), the instanton number is the second Chern
class). The boundary conditions depend on the knot K and on the representation R∨ by
which it is labeled. This is the only way that K and R∨ enter in this dual description. The
path integral gives

Z(q; K, R∨ ) = bn q n , (1.26)
n
where q was defined in (1.5). This exhibits the Jones polynomial and the related quantum
invariants of knots in three dimensions as “Laurent polynomials” in q with integer coeffi-
cients. I put “Laurent polynomials” in quotes because the powers of q are shifted from
integers in a way that depends only on the representations, so for instance the Jones
polynomial of a knot with this normalization is q1/2 times a Laurent polynomial in q.
I have changed notation slightly to write the knot invariant as Z(q; K, R∨ ) rather than
Zk (R3 ; K, R∨ ), since this formula only works in this simple way on the three-manifold
R3 , and also in this description the natural variable is q rather than k.
Should we be surprised that duality converts a three-dimensional path integral—the
analytically continued Chern–Simons path integral—into a problem of counting clas-
sical solutions? I think that the real surprise is that it is possible to arrange things so
that supersymmetric localization of a four-dimensional path integral leads to a three-
dimensional path integral, namely, an analytically continued version of the usual path
integral of Chern–Simons gauge theory. Making this work is fairly delicate. A much
more generic outcome of supersymmetric localization is a problem of counting classical
solutions, and we should not be too surprised that electric–magnetic duality maps the
special four-dimensional construction related to Chern–Simons theory to a more gen-
eric one that leads to counting of classical solutions. A rough analogy involves mirror
symmetry in two dimensions between the A-model and the B-model. The B-model is a
relatively exceptional construction in two dimensions in which supersymmetric localiz-

ation leads to variation of Hodge structure rather than counting of classical solutions.
Mirror symmetry converts it to the more generic10 A-model in which one has to count
classical solutions. Variation of Hodge structure is part of Hodge theory, which can be
interpreted in terms of quantum mechanics or (equivalently) one-dimensional quantum
field theory. (The quasi-one-dimensional nature of the B-model is what physicists mean
in calling it “classical.”) So mirror symmetry from the B-model to the A-model in effect
maps a quantum problem in one dimension to a counting of classical solutions in two
dimensions. The analog in two dimensions more is the electric–magnetic duality from
a quantum problem in three dimensions—the analytically continued Chern–Simons
theory—to a classical problem of counting solutions of the KW equations in four
dimensions.
A final remark is that the formula (1.26), in which q appears as an instanton-counting
parameter, can be viewed as a response to a challenge raised in [25], p. 299. The chal-
lenge was to find a description of the Jones polynomial in which q would be associated to
instanton number (the integral of the second Chern class) in four dimensions.
1.2 Lecture Two

As we discussed in the last lecture, quantum knot invariants of a simple Lie group G∨ on
a three-manifold W can be computed by counting solutions of a certain system of elliptic
partial differential equations, with gauge group the dual group G, on the four-manifold
M = W × R+ . The equations are the KW equations
F – φ ∧ φ = dA φ, dA φ = 0, (1.27)
where A is a connection on a G-bundle E → M and φ ∈ 1 (M, ad(E)). The boundary

conditions at the finite end of M = W × R+ depend on the knot, as indicated in Fig. 1.6.
The boundary conditions at the infinite end of M say that A = A + iφ must approach a
complex-valued flat connection. Exactly what we have to do depends on what we want to
get, but in one very important case there is a simple answer. For W = R3 , meaning that
we are studying knots in R3 , a flat connection is gauge-equivalent to zero and we require
that A → 0 at infinity, in other words A, φ → 0. In this lecture, we are only going to
discuss the case of W = R3 .
For W = R3 , the difference between G∨ and G is going to be important primarily when
they have different Lie algebras, since for instance there is no second Stiefel–Whitney
class to distinguish SO(3) from SU(2). So the difference will be most important if
G∨ = SO(2n + 1) and G = Sp(2n + 1), or vice versa. In fact, we will see later that
something very interesting happens precisely for G∨ = SO(2n + 1) (or its double cover
Spin(2n + 1)).
To compute quantum knot invariants, we are supposed to “count” the solutions of the
KW equations with fixed instanton number. The instanton number is defined as

1
P= Tr F ∧ F, (1.28)
8π 2 M
where the trace is an invariant quadratic form defined so that (for simply connected G on
a compact four-manifold M without boundary), P takes integer values. For G = SU(n),
we can take Tr to be the trace in the n-dimensional representation; then P is the second
Chern class. Just as in Donaldson theory, the “count” of solutions is made with signs. The
sign with which a given solution contributes is the sign of the determinant of the linear
elliptic operator that arises by linearizing the KW equations about a given solution. (For
physicists, this is the fermion determinant.)
Let bn be the “number” of solutions of instanton number P = n. One forms the series

Z(q) = bn qn . (1.29)
n
One expects that bn vanishes for all but finitely many n. Given this, Z(q) (which depends
on the knot K and a representation R∨ , though we now omit these in the notation) is
a Laurent polynomial in q (times qc for some fixed c ∈ Q, as explained shortly). For
example, if G∨ = SU(2) and the knot is labeled by the two-dimensional representation,
then Z(q) is expected to be the Jones polynomial.
In all of this, the knot and representation are encoded entirely in the boundary condi-
tion at the finite end of M, as sketched in Fig. 1.6. The instanton number P is an integer
if M is compact and without boundary, but we are not in that situation. To make P into
a topological invariant, we need a trivialization of the bundle E at both the finite and
infinite ends of M. The trivialization at the infinite end comes from the requirement that
A, φ → 0 at infinity. The trivialization at the finite end depends on the boundary con-
dition, which I have not yet described. With this boundary condition, P is offset from
being integer-valued by a constant that depends only on the knots Ki in W and the rep-
resentations Ri∨ labeling them. This is why Z(q) is not quite a Laurent polynomial in
q, but is qc times such a Laurent polynomial, where c is completely determined by the
representations Ri∨ and the framings of the Ki .
Given this description of the Jones polynomial and related knot invariants, I want
to explain how to associate these knot invariants with a homology theory (which is
expected to coincide with Khovanov homology). I should say that the original work
by physicists associating vector spaces to knots was by Ooguri and Vafa [26] (follow-
ing earlier work associating vector spaces to homology cycles in a Calabi–Yau manifold
[27, 28]). After the invention of Khovanov homology of knots [29], a relation of the
Ooguri–Vafa construction to Khovanov homology was proposed [30]. What I will be
summarizing here is a parallel construction [21] in gauge theory language. The argu-
ments are probably more self-contained, though it is hard to make this entirely clear in
these lectures; the construction is more uniform for all groups and representations; and
I believe that the output is something that mathematicians will be able to grapple with
even without a full understanding of the underlying quantum field theory. I should also
say that my proposal for Khovanov homology is qualitatively similar to ideas by Seidel
and Smith and by Kronheimer and Mrowka, and probably others, and is expected to be
a mirror to a construction by Cautis and Kamnitzer. See [31–35] for references to this
mathematical work.
Let S be the set of solutions of the KW equations. (It is expected that for a generic
embedding of a knot or link in R3 , the KW equations have only finitely many solutions
and these are non-degenerate: the linearized operator has trivial kernel and cokernel.)
We define a vector space V by declaring that for every i ∈ S, there is a corresponding
basis vector |i . On V, we will have two “conserved quantum numbers,” which will be the
instanton number P and a second quantity that I will call the “fermion number” F. I have
already explained that P takes values in Z + c, where c is a fixed constant that depends
only on the choices of representations and framings. F (which will be defined as a certain
Morse index) will be integer-valued. The states |i corresponding to solutions will be
eigenstates of F. We consider the state |i to be “bosonic” or “fermionic” depending on
whether it has an even or odd value of F. So the operator distinguishing bosons from
fermions is (–1)F . F will be defined so that if the solution i contributed +1 to the counting
of KW solutions, then |i has even F, and if it contributed –1, then |i has odd F.
Let us see how we would rewrite in this language the quantum knot invariant

Z(q) = bn qn . (1.30)
n
Here a solution i ∈ S with instanton number ni and fermion number fi contributes (–1)fi
to bni , so it contributes (–1)fi qni to Z(q). So an equivalent formula is

Z(q) = (–1)fi qni = TrV (–1)F qP . (1.31)
i∈S
So far, we have not really done anything except to shift things around. However, on
V, we will also have a “differential” Q , which is an operator that commutes with P but
increases F by 1, and obeys Q 2 = 0. These statements mean that we can define the
cohomology of Q , which we denote by H, and moreover that H is Z × Z-graded, with
the two gradings determined by P and F (we simplify slightly, ignoring the fact that the
eigenvalues of P are really in a coset Z + c).
The importance of passing from V to H is that H is a topological invariant, while V
is not. If one deforms a knot embedded in R3 , then solutions of the KW equations on
M = R3 × R+ will appear and disappear, so V will change. But H does not change. This
H is the candidate for the Khovanov homology.
Instead of defining Z(q) as a trace in V via (1.31), we can define it as a trace in H:
Z(q) = TrH (–1)F qP . (1.32)
So, here, Z(q) is expressed as an “Euler characteristic,” i.e., as a trace in which bosonic
and fermionic states cancel, in the invariantly defined cohomology H. The reason that
we can equally well write Z(q) as a trace in V or in H is standard: the difference between
V and H is that in passing from V to H, pairs of states disappear that make vanishing
contributions to Z(q). (Such a pair consists of a bosonic state and a fermionic state with
the same value of P and values of F differing by 1.)
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"He doesn't know what a privilege he has just had," she said laughing. Then
she looked down at the child, "I do hope he will be a good man like his father,"
she murmured.
"So thank God, she still loves her absentminded husband as much as ever!"
thought the Bishop, but he felt he could have shaken him. To possess such a
treasure and not take more care of her was in his opinion reprehensible in the
extreme. They were a blind pair! He to her lovely self-forgetfulness, and she to
his absentmindedness. Well, he was thankful that she was still devoted to him.
Rachel laughed when she discovered that the Bishop had made her bovril
himself! It was luxury to be looked after and taken care of.
Before he left, he made her promise to have medical advice.
"It would never do for me to see a doctor," she expostulated, "and I have no
time in which to be ill. What do you suppose Luke would do with an invalid
wife, and little Pat with a useless mother! No, it won't do to give in and it was
only the sudden sight of you that made me so stupid."
"It is only right to both your husband and child that you should consult a
doctor," returned the Bishop. "Possibly all you need is a tonic; anyhow, as I
consider I stand in the position of a father to you, you must do what I say. And
you must certainly curtail your work."
And so Rachel gave way and promised, and the Bishop left the house with a
heavy heart. Besides the state of Rachel's health he had learnt for the first
time of their extreme poverty of which he had had no idea. He did not suppose
that Rachel's family knew the state of their finances, as Gwen would certainly
have enlarged upon it in her letter to him had she known. No doubt Rachel
had hidden the fact from her mother partly to save her pain, and also to
prevent her from blaming Luke for marrying her when he could not provide for
her. Something must be done. He was unwilling to give Luke too sudden a
shock by telling him what he thought of his wife's health, but as Mrs. Greville
was now getting stronger, he decided to enlighten her quickly about the
matter. He would write directly he got home; and meanwhile, the thought that
this was only one case of extreme poverty that existed among the clergy in his
diocese, lay on his heart like lead.
But the doctor told Mrs. Greville of the serious state of Rachel's health before
the Bishop's letter reached her.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE DREAM OF HIS LIFE.
Rachel did not hurry to see a doctor, but having promised to do so she knew
she must keep her word, so the second day after the Bishop's visit, knowing
that Luke would be away at a clerical meeting in the country, she wrote a note
to the doctor who had been attending her mother-in-law asking him to come
and see her. She did not suppose that there was anything seriously the matter
with her notwithstanding the fact that she felt so ill; and after all, she thought
to herself, she need not follow out his injunctions if they were inconvenient.
She was quite unprepared for his verdict. He told her that both her heart and
her lungs were affected, and that it was absolutely necessary that she should
give up all parish work and if possible take a thorough rest. To Mrs. Greville,
he gave a still more serious account.
"She should leave this place at once," he said, "and live as far as possible an
open air life. A sanatorium would give her the best chance. But if this is
impossible she should go into the country or to the sea. Of course she has
been doing the work of two or three women. She must drop all that and what
is more she should be fed up. She is not properly nourished."
"Do you mean to say you think that she has not had enough food?" asked
Mrs. Greville very much distressed.
"I am afraid not. She has not looked after herself at all. I made her tell me
what she had had in the way of food yesterday, and when I heard I was not
surprised at her state of health.
"I am afraid it will be an awful blow to my son," said Mrs. Greville.

"I'm afraid it will, but if he wants to keep her he must make some other
arrangement for her. I won't be responsible for her life unless she is removed
as soon as possible, and is given the opportunity of changing entirely her way
of living."
Mrs. Greville so dreaded telling Luke the news she had received from the
doctor that she did not ask him to come round to see her that evening. So she
sat and brooded over the news, and in her heart she blamed Rachel for
neglecting herself as she had evidently done. Of course people would lay the
blame on Luke; but how could you expect a man whose every moment was
filled in with his parish duties to notice when his wife looked pale, or lost her
appetite. And what a terrible hindrance to his work to have an invalid wife!
Moreover, it was easy for the doctor to prescribe a different climate and
complete rest; but how his plans were to be carried out she did not know.
Meanwhile Rachel quite unconscious of the doctor's visit to Mrs. Greville, after
the first shock of the news, determined to behave as if he had never been.
She was resolved not to become an invalid and a hindrance to her husband,
an hour before it was positively necessary. And after all doctors often made
mistakes. She would drink more milk, a matter on which he had laid great
stress, and there she would leave it.
When Luke returned home from the clerical meeting he was in good spirits.
The paper he had read had been well received and the discussion that had
followed had been intensely interesting. Rachel was as interested in all that
had happened as she always was in his concerns, and he did not notice that
she was looking unusually tired and worn.
The next day two letters lay on the hall table for Luke. But he had to hurry off
directly after lunch to an appointment, and so he put them in his pocket to
read in the tram on the way.
It was only after taking his seat that he remembered them. One he saw at
once was from the Bishop, the other had the London postmark. He opened
the second first as being more interesting to him; and he could scarcely
believe what he read. It was the offer of a living in a crowded part of London,
where he would have the charge of 16,000 souls. He could have shouted for
joy. It was exactly what he had been longing for. It was true that financially it
was not much better than his present living, but money had very little
attraction or indeed meaning for Luke, and he dismissed from his mind that
part of the news in the letter almost without a thought. It was the work that he
craved, and work in the very centre of the universe, as he liked to think of
London. At last the dream of his life was coming true. He felt he could hardly
get through his work, so anxious was he to tell the news to Rachel and to his
mother.
He felt that his mother would rejoice with him almost more than Rachel. Now
that he came to think of it his wife had never taken much to the thought of
London; though he knew that she would do nothing to prevent him going. Had
she not said when they had been talking about the possibility of him one day
being offered a church there, "Where thou goest I will go?" But the
remembrance of her words about London and her dislike of it, for a moment or
two rather damped his spirits; but he knew she would not fail him now that the
dream of his life was coming true.
So full was he of the news the letter contained, that he forgot there was
another one in his pocket till he was in the tram again on his way home.
To his amusement, he found that this one was also an offer of a living; but one
in the country. It was a good one, much better than the one offered to him in
London; but this did not weigh with him in the least, and the fact of it being in
the country at once made him dismiss it from his mind. In fact, he scarcely
took in the Bishop's letter in which he said, that he felt sure a country life
would be beneficial both for his wife and his son, adding that when he called
at his house he had thought Rachel looking very tired and worn.
Rachel was always so bright in her husband's presence that he supposed the
Bishop must have called at an inconvenient time and that unfortunately
Rachel had not been able to conceal the fact. He had not noticed anything
wrong in her looks himself, and he did not recollect her once complaining of
even a headache ever since her marriage. The Bishop evidently had got a
wrong impression of her from his call. He would write and thank him for his
kind thought of them but decline the country living and tell him why. Then he
thrust the Bishop's letter into his pocket and made his way joyfully toward his
mother's rooms.
CHAPTER XXIII.
LUKE SEES HIMSELF.
Luke, full of his great news, ran upstairs to his mother's room, with the letter
from London in his hands.
He found her crouching over the fire in the big horsehair chair, the only
armchair in the room. He was surprised that she did not look round at the
sound of his footsteps and give him her usual smile of welcome. Instead, she
stretched out her hand to him with averted eyes.
"Mother what is it?" he asked. He knew she must have bad news of some kind
and wanted to express her sympathy before she broke it to him.
"My poor boy," was all she said.
Luke took a chair by her and looked anxiously at her. She had been so much
better lately, was able to walk a little and was getting altogether stronger, that
her action perplexed him. Had the doctor given her a depressing account of
herself, he wondered? Mrs. Greville's first words confirmed this fear.
"Dr. Fleming has been here."
"And surely he thinks you much better? Don't let him make you nervous about
yourself, mother."
"It isn't about myself," said Mrs. Greville in a strained tone of voice, "it's about
Rachel."
Luke's face cleared at once.
"Oh well," he said laughing, "you may make your mind easy about her. I left
her this morning in good spirits."
He was much relieved.
"My poor boy!" said his mother again, "You must prepare for a great blow."
He began to wonder if the slight stroke his mother had had, affected her brain.
He put his hand caressingly on hers. "Let's have it out," he said with a smile. "I
don't think what ever it is that it can affect me as much as you imagine."
"Rachel is not well," said his mother watching his face anxiously. "She saw the
doctor yesterday."
"Not well!" said Luke astonished. "Why, what is the matter with her? She was
quite well anyhow this morning. Has she had an accident?"
"No. It is worse than an accident. The doctor thinks very seriously of her."
Luke rose and stood before his mother. All the colour had left his face.
"Tell me outright what you mean," he said sharply. "What is wrong with her?"
"Both her heart and her lungs."
Luke stood quite still and silent. He was always silent and unnaturally quiet
when agitated in his mind.
"When did she see the doctor?" he asked at last.
"Yesterday."
"Yesterday!"
"Yes. The Bishop, you remember, called on her. He made her promise to
consult him."
"And why didn't she tell me?" said Luke. And the agonised expression in his
eyes showed his mother how intensely he was moved.
"I don't know, except that she wanted to save you anxiety. She has not told me
either and I don't suppose that she has any idea that Dr. Fleming came round
to see me about her."
Luke dropped into a chair. Then he looked up again at his mother.
"Did he give any directions or say what should be done?" he asked.
"I'm afraid he did my dear boy. He mentioned something about a Sanatorium,

but anyhow, he said it was absolutely necessary for her to have perfect rest
and a change of air and environment. In fact Luke," she added, and her voice
trembled, "he seemed to think it a matter of life and death."
Luke groaned and covered his face with his hands.
"He says," continued his mother, "that she has evidently been doing too much
and has not taken care of herself. He particularly dwelt on her thinness.
Apparently she has not had nourishing food."
Luke groaned again.
"I feel Rachel is greatly to be blamed for having been so careless about her
health," added Mrs. Greville.
Luke looked up, and his mother was startled by the stern expression of his
face.
"Rachel to be blamed!" he repeated. "I am to be blamed, not Rachel."
There was anguish in his tone of voice. He picked up the letter from London
which had fallen to the ground, ramming it into his coat pocket. Then he
sprang up and looked at his watch.
"I shall go and see the doctor at once," he said. And without another word, he
hurried away.
His visit confirmed his worst fears, and the doctor seemed surprised that he
had never noticed the gradual change in his wife's appearance. Even he had
seen it, casually meeting her in the street.
Luke walked home as if in a dream. The letters in his pocket were absolutely
forgotten; his one thought was Rachel.
He opened the door of the house softly and went up into his study. He felt he
could not meet his wife till he had looked the terrible truth in the face. The
thought that he might possibly lose her was too painful to him to be able to
bear calmly, and yet he knew that he must not give her any hint as to his
fears.
He shut the door of his study after him and sank into the large armchair by the
fire burying his face in his hands.
The fire! Even that seemed to cry out in condemnation of his selfishness. Of
course Rachel had lit his fire so that his room might be warm and comfortable
for him, while she probably had had no fire to sit by except that in the kitchen.
He had been so preoccupied with his own interests and concerns that he had
scarcely given a thought to hers. His mother had said, that the doctor gave it
out as his opinion that she had not eaten enough. How was it that this fact had
never been noticed by him! She always supplied him with plenty, and it had
not struck him to notice what food she had provided for herself. Husband and
child had never wanted for anything.
The doctor had said that she was thoroughly overworked. And yet he had
never noticed how she was getting thin and pale! How often had he asked her
to do things for him so that he might go off to some meeting or other, and it
had never crossed his mind that the anxiety of leaving Pat with inexperienced
Polly must have added to the strain.
Then he had never shared in the care of the child; in fact he had at times
asked Rachel to do what she could to keep him quiet as his crying somewhat
disturbed him working. Not many weeks after his birth he had moved his bed
into his dressing room, as the child's restlessness prevented him sleeping,
and he felt his sleep to be all important to his work. He had never realised that
Rachel also wanted an occasional night's rest.
And what had she not given up for him! Her luxurious home, where she had
every comfort; her mother and sisters who had petted and loved her; her out
of door pursuits; her flowers which she loved so passionately; her ease and
her friends. And what had he given up for her in return? Nothing! Nothing!
In exchange for all her home comforts, he had given her a pokey little house,
poverty, overwork, and strain!
He was indeed in the Valley of Humiliation!
Then he suddenly rebelled at his thoughts and he started up and began to

pace the room. Given her nothing! He had given her his heart's love. All the
love that he knew how to give. Next to his God was his love for his wife; and
he knew that in this sudden reaction of thought Rachel would be one with him.
Though poor compared to her love for him he had given her his best. She
knew she was all the world to him. Life without her was unthinkable. He
paused as he reached his writing table, looking down absently at his Sunday
sermon which he had already begun. The text of it faced him.
"'These ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone.'"
The words gave him a shock. They so exactly described him, and yet he had
been so unconscious of his delinquencies that he had actually intended to
preach to his people about theirs.
"'These ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone.'" The Word
of God condemned him. He had forgotten that preaching and visiting were not
the only duties to be done for God, or the only work. Did not St. Paul lay a
special stress on the home life?
He realised now that though he loved his wife so devotedly, he had been so
engrossed in his own affairs that he had neglected her. He suddenly paused in
his walk. That was Rachel's voice. Evidently little Pat was restless and his
mother was singing him to sleep. Luke could hardly bear the sound of her
dear voice. It pierced his heart like an arrow. He pictured just how she was
looking, walking up and down in her bedroom with the child in her arms. He
had often heard her sing the words that he now heard, but he remembered
how even the sound of her singing at times had disturbed him, and he had
asked her to stop. But this evening, he listened and wept.
"Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,

The little Lord Jesus laid down His sweet head,
The stars in the bright sky looked down where He lay,
The little Lord Jesus asleep in the hay."
"The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes,

But little Lord Jesus no crying He makes.
I love Thee Lord Jesus! look down from the sky,
And stay by my side until morning is nigh."
"Be near me Lord Jesus; I ask Thee to stay

Close by me for ever, and love me I pray.
Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care,
And fit us for Heaven to live with Thee there."
The voice grew softer and softer; then it ceased altogether and Luke knew Pat
was asleep.
He so dreaded to meet Rachel that he stayed up in his study till he heard her
footstep outside. When she opened the door she found him sitting over the
fire in an attitude of deep depression, and knew at once that somehow he had
learnt the news about her. Kneeling by his side she laid her head on his
breast.
"You mustn't worry about me dearest," she said, "I think myself that Dr.
Fleming is a pessimist and has made a mistake. Anyhow I don't mean to act
as if what he said was true. I shall just go on as I have done before; that is to
say after a little rest. I suppose I must have that."
Luke was silent. He hardly thought that she could be aware of her serious
condition.
"Why did you not tell me?" he asked after a pause. There was a tone of
reproach in his voice.
"I didn't want to worry you, you have so much to trouble you. Besides, I don't
suppose there is anything really the matter with me. Doctors make such
mistakes."
He took up one of her hands and looked at it. He was shocked to notice how
thin it was.
He held it to his lips and kissed it. The unusual action almost broke Rachel's
self-control.
She rose saying, "I must go now and see after the supper. Polly will wonder
where I am." But once out of the room her tears began to flow.
"Oh, I mustn't be ill," she gasped, as instead of going into the kitchen, she
sank into a chair in the drawing-room. "I shall be no good to Luke, only an
anxiety. Oh God show me what to do. Don't let me be a burden to him."
Luke, after Rachel had left, sat sunk again in deep depression.
Then suddenly he remembered the letters in his pocket. He had completely

forgotten them, and now when he opened for the second time the Bishop's
letter, it suddenly dawned upon him that here was the way out of his difficulty.
To accept the country living meant that Rachel could live in the garden, and
her strenuous life at Trowsby would be over. She would go to the place as a
known invalid and would not be expected to take up parish work. The cloud on
his face lifted, and the weight on his heart grew lighter. Moreover, the struggle
with poverty of which Rachel had been more conscious evidently than he had,
would be over, for the stipend was unusually good.
With a feeling of great thankfulness, he closed the letter and opened the one
from London intending to answer them both that night. Of course the London
living must be refused. There was no question about it. But as he read over
again the description of the work a feeling of intense disappointment took
possession of him. He had been longing for this offer! It was, as he had once
said to Rachel, the dream of his life.
And here it was within his grasp and yet he was unable to accept it. Instead of
preaching to a large congregation and ministering to their souls needs, he
would have to vegetate in the country! It would be a living death to him.
During the first year or two of his present charge he had tasted what it was to
be able to move people by his oratory; it was only the extra-ordinary craze for
amusements that had spoilt it all. It was then he began to long for a wider
sphere, and though the parish in which was the church that had been offered
to him was in a poor part of London, the congregation consisted of many who
had been drawn there by the preaching of the former Vicar. The Trustees
were most anxious to secure a good preacher to succeed him. One of them
had visited St. Marks on purpose to judge of Luke's preaching, and was much
struck by it. This was why the living had been offered to him notwithstanding
the fact that he was somewhat young for such an important post. All this was
mentioned in the letter that Luke held in his hand, and the fact that he had to
decline it filled him with the keenest disappointment. So keen was it that he
decided not to tell Rachel that night about either letter. He would wait to
answer them till the next day. It was never a good thing to do anything in a
hurry.
Luke's silence at supper did not surprise her. She knew that it was a sign that
he had some problem to solve. The problem of course, this evening, she knew
must be what to do about her. Once or twice she tried to make him smile as
she recounted some event of the day; but she was so unsuccessful that she
felt it was better to leave him to his thoughts. She was trying herself to unravel
the difficulty that had arisen, but so impossible did she find it that she came to
the conclusion that the only thing was to leave it in Higher Hands. God had
always provided for them and would do so still. Was He not a very present
help in time of trouble?
Luke sat up late that night. He was standing before the Bar of his own
conscience. He had to face the fact that he was feeling rebellious; struggling
against the Will of God. To bury his talents in a village was a repugnant
thought to him. How could he endure the quiet and dullness of it? Would it not
tend to make him indolent in work? What would be the good of reading all the
new thought of the day in order to help those who were troubled by it, if there
was no-one who had even heard of the false teaching. How could he spend
his time in preparing sermons suitable to men and women whose brains had
never been taught to work. He pictured himself preaching to a congregation,
the half of which were asleep and the other half on the verge of going to
sleep. Then he suddenly remembered how his Lord had spent time over the
soul of one poor woman, the Lord of whom it was said, "Never man spake like
this man." Had He not taught again and again, both by his words and actions,
the value of one individual soul?
Luke's disinclination for a village congregation made him look into his own
motives. Had all his work been at Trowsby been done for the glory of God?
Had not the first year or two of his great popularity somewhat intoxicated him?
Was the wish to preach to large audiences to win them to the service of the
Lord? Or was it the delightful sense of power to sway their minds, that
attracted him? Was the disappointment and the longing for a larger sphere
caused at all by the fact that he was conscious that he had lost hold of his
people? That they no longer hung on his words as of yore; that instead of
looking up to him, as formerly, with admiration, they looked down on him as
out of date?
Sitting by his fire that night, looking at the dying coals, he saw himself for the
first time in the light of one who had been weighed in the balances and found
wanting. He was right down in the Valley of Humiliation, and in agony of soul.
It was late when he went to his room. Then he dreamt that he was a Bishop
preaching in St. Paul's Cathedral. He looked down at the sea of faces, and
was conscious of a thrill of emotion as he saw the vast congregation before
him. He felt triumphant and elated as among the number he noticed some of
his parishioners at Trowsby, who had left his Church because they did not
consider him up to date.
He heard his fine voice echoing down the aisles as he gave out his text, and
was congratulating himself on its texture, when the whole congregation rose
to its feet, saying solemnly and slowly, "Thou art weighed in the balances, and
art found wanting." Then they filed out of the Cathedral till he was left standing
alone in the pulpit, with the condemning words still echoing among the pillars.
He awoke trembling with horror, and knew, in the anguish of his soul, that it
was true of him. He had been weighed in the balances and found wanting.
The cry of his little son in the adjoining room reached him; and he heard
Rachel's soft voice singing:
"Be near me Lord Jesus; I ask Thee to stay
Close by me for ever, and love me I pray.
Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care,
And fit us for Heaven to live with Thee there."
He rose and opened the door softly, and took the child from her arms. Rachel,
almost too tired to smile or feel any surprise, lay down and slept.
"Perhaps," said Luke to himself, "To take care of my little son, may be more to
God's glory than to preach in St. Paul's Cathedral."
He wrote the next morning before breakfast to refuse the London living and to
accept the one in the country; and he never told his wife nor his mother that
he had had a chance of experiencing the dream of his life and had put it away.
CHAPTER XXIV.
FOR LUKE'S SAKE.
Luke paced up and down the lawn of his pretty Rectory. The moon was
shedding its silver light on grass and trees; the flowers were flinging their
perfume around him; a nightingale trilled out its song from a tree in the
distance; but it all meant nothing to Luke. His soul was crying out for crowds of
human beings; for his fellow men; for the rush and excitement of city life; for
the tumult and whirl of London.
The silence of this summer night broken only by the song of the nightingale
was almost unbearable. The thought of his village church sparsely filled with
farmers and their wives, and labourers, who listened to him with their mouths
open in astonishment at the oratory of their new "parson," the remembrance of
the cottages nestling on the hill below the Rectory, with their walls covered
with roses and honey suckle, and whose occupants he had already visited
several times during his short stay among them, had no charm for him.
He longed for strenuous work in courts and alleys, for congregations of people
who could appreciate his sermons; he pined for London platforms and
enthralled listeners to his eloquence. He felt he was wasted, utterly wasted in
this quiet village on the hill that Rachel so loved.
Yes, Rachel loved it. That was the only compensation. Gradually it seemed
that her health was returning. The open air life and comparative rest from
worry were doing their work; and only a few minutes before, she had left him
rejoicing in all the beauty of their surroundings, its peace and quietness. She
revelled in the flowers and trees and soft green grass.
When Luke had told her two months ago of the Bishop's offer of Stagland, the
news had struck her as so wonderful that she had burst into tears. She knew
that a few more months in Trowsby would mean that she would have to say
goodbye to husband and child and leave them to get through life alone; and
the lifting of that burden seemed almost too good to be true. Moreover, living
at Stagland meant an end to the perpetual struggle of keeping within their
means, an end too of housework, for which she was entirely unfit. She
decided before many hours were over to take the faithful little Polly as
nursemaid and to help in the house, with another general servant. They would
be able to grow their own vegetables and fruit, and no doubt Luke would do a
certain amount of work in the garden with a man to help. The whole plan
seemed ideal to Rachel. She lay awake thinking of it at night and panting for
the fresh air of the country.
At times, however, she wondered if she ought to let Luke sacrifice himself to
the extent of living in the country. Would he be able to endure it? Would he
have enough to occupy his time? Was it right that a young and strong man
should take a country living and spend his best years among fields and
hedges instead of courts and alleys?
She looked anxiously at his face when he did not know that her eyes were
upon him, and was afraid that she detected a shade of sadness in its
expression. Luke, however, was very careful not to let her know by his words
how almost unbearable the thought of the country was to him. But when
Rachel was not with him he gave way to his miserable thoughts.
He had been inexpressibly touched by the warmth of feeling displayed by

some of the members of his congregation at Trowsby when they heard that he
was leaving them. As is often the case, he learnt then for the first time that
which would have immensely encouraged him had he known it before, that he
had helped so many of them spiritually. It made leaving them all the harder,
though at the same time it warmed his heart to find that he had been used far
more than he had imagined for the good of their souls. The last two Sundays
at Trowsby, the Church had been full to overflowing, and he had again the
wonderful feeling of being able to sway men's minds.
As he paced up and down in the moonlight, he lifted his eyes to the starlit sky
and cried to God to forgive all his past unsatisfactoriness and to make him
once more of use in the world.
As for Rachel she was in a dream of happiness. In fact it seemed as if life had
suddenly opened to her in all its rich fulness. The presence of her husband,
her child, the country air laden with all sorts of perfume; the feeling of rest and
quiet after the strain and stress of Trowsby; and the consciousness that she
was getting her strength back and had not to be always thinking of ways and
means, filled her with thankfulness. Moreover, she had a most faithful
nursemaid in Polly who she counted distinctly as one of her blessings. Polly's
devotion to Pat showed itself in many ways; and Rachel felt that she could
trust the child perfectly to her when she was feeling unable to make any effort
on his behalf. For though she knew she was gradually getting stronger she
was conscious that her amount of strength was at present very small and that
any unnecessary effort was bad for her.
"I am going to Trowsby," said Luke one morning. "I am not happy about my
mother. Her letters strike me as rather depressed."
"I am afraid that she must miss you very much," said Rachel.
"I fancy that is what is making her depressed. Anyhow I shall go and find out. I
shall rather like to be in Trowsby again," he added.
"You mustn't like it so much that you'll want to be back again," said Rachel.
Luke laughed. He would have given the world to be back again, but he did not
tell her so. Anyhow it would do him good just to have a look at the people. And
if he started quite early in the morning, by 7.30, he would have a long day
before he need return by the 8 o'clock train.
The streets of Trowsby did for him what the trees and flowers did for his wife.
He felt he could breathe again, and the depression that had weighed him
down rolled away. His first visit was to the church. It was empty. After kneeling
in prayer, he sat down and lived over again the Sundays he had spent there.
He remembered the crowded building, the earnest listeners, the hearty
singing, and compared it with his present village Church.
Then with a sigh he rose and made his way to his mother's rooms. That she
was missing him terribly, he saw at once.
"You must come and live with us," he said. "Why not?"
"My dear I could not do that," she answered. "If Rachel asked me that would
be another thing. But she is not likely to do that."
"But why not?" said Luke. "I am quite sure she would be delighted. I can't think
why the plan was not thought of before."
Mrs. Greville smiled.
"Have you ever come across a daughter-in-law who would welcome such an
idea? I haven't. No, it would not answer."
"Perhaps not with most people; but you are different. I can't imagine Rachel
not liking the suggestion. Of course she would be only too delighted."
Mrs. Greville shook her head. "It is impossible," she said. "I like Rachel and
admire her in many ways, but I am perfectly sure that our feelings for one
another would be strained and uncomfortable. I don't know if you are aware
she has never once called me mother. I am Mrs. Greville to her and nothing
more."
"What?" exclaimed Luke.
Mrs. Greville, seeing her son's astonishment, was sorry that she had
mentioned the fact to him.
"Oh it really does not signify," she hurried to say. "I daresay it has never struck
her. And I have not a word to say against her. She is a very nice girl and an
excellent wife. But you see the kind of footing we are on. She would not
welcome me I am quite sure."
"I am convinced that you are mistaken," said Luke. The idea had never
entered his mind, that his wife and mother were not on the closest of terms
with one another. His mother, he felt sure, was depressed from her late illness
and was looking at things through dark spectacles.
"You must put those ideas quite away from you," he said, "and you must come
and live with us. Wouldn't you like it?"
"I have never liked the thought of the country. But of course it would be far
less lonely and I suppose I could find enough to do in the village."
"Of course you would. You could start all sorts of things which Rachel is not in
a fit state to do."
"Well I shall not come unless I am definitely asked by your wife," said Mrs.
Greville, "as I am convinced that I should not be welcomed. Neither do I think
it at all wise for a mother-in-law to take up her abode with her son and his
wife. You will see that I am right."
Luke made the best of his time in Trowsby. He visited every member of his
men's Bible class; had tea with Mrs. Stone, looked up the district visitors and
finally found himself just in time to spring into the 8 o'clock train as it was
moving out of the station.
Meanwhile Rachel had had a lovely day in the garden. Little Pat was in his
perambulator by her side, crowing and happy. The birds were singing in the
trees above her. The gardener was cutting the grass in another part of the
garden with a scythe; that most delicious of all sounds; an occasional heavily
laden cart passed in the lane near by. She rejoiced in every sight, sound, and
smell, and the quiet and peace were as balm to her spirit.
When baby was taken away to be put to sleep for the night Rachel still lay on
under the trees, and was fast asleep herself when Luke opened the gate.
"Have you had a nice day?" she said, as she awoke at the sound of his
footstep. But she saw the question was unnecessary. His face was radiant.
"First-rate," he said, taking a seat by her side. "I enjoyed every minute of it."
"How is your mother?"
For the moment Luke had forgotten about his suggestion to his mother; and
the sudden remembrance of her words made him hesitate before answering;
then he said:
"Of course she misses me terribly. I don't feel happy at her being so far away."
He was so afraid of seeing by the expression on his wife's face that his mother
was right in her judgment, that he kept his eyes on the tree above him. Rachel
was silent. A sudden presentiment filled her mind and made her heart flutter.
Was Luke wanting his mother to live with them? Was it possible that such a
thought had entered his mind! How could she bear it? She had grown to like
Mrs. Greville, indeed to love her in a way.
Her devotion to little Pat was almost pathetic and had drawn them together.
But to have her in the house, for the peace to be interrupted by her restless
activities; to hear her loud voice disturbing the quiet of the home and garden!
How could she bear it! And yet—yes she was sure from the look on Luke's
face as he gazed up into the tree, that this was what he wanted to propose
and for some reason felt nervous of doing so. She was silent; then mastering
herself she said quietly:
"Of course she must miss you terribly. What a pity Trowsby is so far away."
With a fear lest he should then and there propose to her what she believed
would wreck the happiness and peace of the home, she added quickly, "I think
it is getting a little damp and chilly. Will you bring in my chair dear."
Luke was all concern in a moment. Rachel must not get cold. He folded up the
chair and followed her into the house. He was just a little surprised that Rachel
had not caught his thought. She was generally so quick at discovering his
meaning; but evidently the idea of his mother living with them had never
crossed her mind. He must try and broach the subject again later on. Had it
not been for his mother's words he would not have felt the slightest hesitation
in doing so; but what she had said was making him find it a little difficult for the
first time to tell Rachel his wish.
"What is the time?" asked Rachel as she paused at the door of the drawing-
room.
"Half past nine."
"Then I shall go straight to bed," she said. "Polly has laid your supper in the
dining-room. I must wait to hear all about your day till to-morrow, then I shall
be fresher."
On reaching her bedroom Rachel locked the door and sank into a chair. The
shock of the discovery of what was in Luke's mind made her feel quite faint.
Was her cup of happiness to be taken from her? She had so enjoyed having
her husband and child to herself—and so thankful that for a time, at least, the
subject of economy could be put on one side—that she need not worry any
more over eggs being 4d each or that margarine was cheaper than butter.
She hoped that she had left all that behind in Trowsby for ever; but she was
convinced that if Mrs. Greville lived with them the subject of economy would
continually crop up whether it were needful or not. Ways and means were too
interesting a topic to her mother-in-law to allow of her dropping it for long.
Then there were the servants. Polly had a rooted objection to Mrs. Greville,
and as for her new maid she was one who disliked any interference. Rachel
felt that she would certainly lose her, and if it were not for Polly's devotion to
little Pat and herself, there would have been small chance of keeping even
her. Anyhow the peace and the intense happiness would be gone. She would
feel that she had lost both husband and child. Mrs. Greville would dominate
them all and would rule the house. Rachel knew by this time, moreover, that
her ideas on the bringing up of children were in direct opposition to her own.
What should she do if Luke asked her outright to invite her mother-in-law to
live with them? Should she tell him of the difficulties which would certainly
arise? Would it be possible to talk them over together without hurting him too
much? But no. She knew that Luke would not in the least understand them. It
would only make matters worse. She must either put her foot down and say
decidedly that it could not be, or give way.
Rachel in her distress knew there was only one thing to do. Only one answer
to give. She must just pray for strength to do what she knew was her duty; and
to take up the cross without murmuring.
Luke was spared the ordeal he had begun to dread; for at breakfast the next
morning Rachel looked at him across the table with a smile.
"I have been thinking about your mother," she said. "Why not ask her to come
and live with us. Would she like it?"
Luke's whole face lit up.
"That is exactly what I should wish, dearest," he said. "But will it put more on
you? Happily we have Emma, and two servants ought to be able to work the
house well."
"Anyhow," said Rachel, "we might try the experiment."
"I'll write this morning," said Luke joyfully. "No, it would come better from you.
And Rachel," he said, with a little hesitation, "call her 'mother' will you? That
would bring her I know. She would feel we really wanted her."
Rachel laughed. Had she not laughed she would have cried.
"All right," she said. "You shall see my letter before it goes."
Luke was overjoyed. He was so glad that he had been right. There was
evidently no feeling whatever against his mother's coming in Rachel's
judgment. In fact she was evidently pleased at the suggestion. He would write
also and tell his mother that she had been quite wrong in imagining that his
wife would not like the plan.
Rachel dashed off her letter as quickly as she could lest her heart should fail
her, and showed it to Luke.
"Dear Mother," she wrote;

"Why not come and live with us? You would
like this place and would feel much less
lonely than living on in Trowsby. We do not
like to think of you there by yourself."
"Your affectionate daughter-in-law,"
"Rachel."
Rachel pointed to the beginning as Luke took it in his hands, saying, "I have
called her mother for love of you."

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Lectures on geometry Woodhouse

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Lectures on Logarithmic Algebraic Geometry Arthur Ogus

Lectures on Euclidean Geometry: Euclidean Geometry of

Lectures on Euclidean Geometry - Volume 1: Euclidean

Lectures on the Geometry of Manifolds 3rd Edition Liviu

Lectures on Convex Optimization Yurii Nesterov

Lectures on Astrophysics 1st Edition Steven Weinberg

Lectures on Imagination 1st Edition Paul Ricœur

Lectures on Quantum Mechanics - Perturbed Evolution

T his volume contains a collection of papers based on lectures delivered by distin-

Two Lectures on the Jones Polynomial and Khovanov Homology

Elementary Knot Theory

Cube Complexes, Subgroups of Mapping Class Groups

Polyfolds and Fredholm Theory

Maps, Sheaves and K3 Surfaces

Martin R. Bridson Rahul Pandharipande

Helmut H. W. Hofer Edward Witten

Marc Lackenby N. M. J. Woodhouse

1.1 Lecture One

T he Jones polynomial is a celebrated invariant of a knot (or link) in ordinary three-

q1/4 q1/4 q–1/4 q–1/4

This is a basic construction in quantum ﬁeld theory, though unfortunately challenging to

To include a knot—that is, an embedded oriented circle K ⊂ W—we make use of

(Again, framings are needed.)

On a general three-manifold W, a critical point of CS(A) is simply a complex-valued ﬂat

We want to think of k and n as analogs of the integer-valued parameters in Chern–Simons

F(z) = log z + λ(z – z–1 ), λ = n/k. (1.12)

F(w) = w + λ(ew – e–w ). (1.13)

1 + λ(ew + e–w ) = 0. (1.15)

converges, since h = Re[kF(w)] goes to –∞ at inﬁnity along p . Moreover, when restric-

where the coefﬁcients c0 , c1 , . . . in the asymptotic expansion can be computed by

After computing the integers ap , it is straightforward to determine the large-k asymptotics

smooth four-manifolds, so it is relatively familiar. A Riemannian metric on W induces a

where F = dA + A ∧ A is the curvature. Now a couple of miracles happen. This equation

They can be viewed as ﬂow equations for the complex-valued connection A = A + iφ on

Figure 1.6 A four-manifold M = W × R+ , with a knot K embedded in its boundary

question. This is electric–magnetic duality, the four-dimensional analog of mirror sym-

relatively exceptional construction in two dimensions in which supersymmetric localiz-

1.2 Lecture Two

where A is a connection on a G-bundle E → M and φ ∈ 1 (M, ad(E)). The boundary

Z(q) = TrH (–1)F qP . (1.32)

Before he left, he made her promise to have medical advice.

"I am afraid it will be an awful blow to my son," said Mrs. Greville.

"My poor boy," was all she said.

"Dr. Fleming has been here."

Luke's face cleared at once.

He was much relieved.

"Both her heart and her lungs."

"When did she see the doctor?" he asked at last.

Luke dropped into a chair. Then he looked up again at his mother.

"Did he give any directions or say what should be done?" he asked.

"I'm afraid he did my dear boy. He mentioned something about a Sanatorium,

Luke groaned and covered his face with his hands.

Luke groaned again.

"Rachel to be blamed!" he repeated. "I am to be blamed, not Rachel."

He was indeed in the Valley of Humiliation!

Then he suddenly rebelled at his thoughts and he started up and began to

"Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,

"The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes,

"Be near me Lord Jesus; I ask Thee to stay

Then suddenly he remembered the letters in his pocket. He had completely

He had been inexpressibly touched by the warmth of feeling displayed by

converges, since h = Re[kF(w)] goes to –∞ at inﬁnity along p . Moreover, when restric-